


Love in the Time of Covid-19

by Trumpdin4Ever



Category: 2020 presidental election
Genre: Angst, Covid-19 Romance, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, One-sided pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26777527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trumpdin4Ever/pseuds/Trumpdin4Ever
Summary: Wise men say only fools rush in...but I can't help falling in love with you.
Relationships: Joe Biden/Donald Trump, Kim Jong-un/Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin/Donald Trump
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	Love in the Time of Covid-19

**Author's Note:**

> Just so we're clear, I'm writing this for a laugh

“Kamala, I’m nervous.”

Joe’s political partner let out a long-suffering sigh. Probably rolled her eyes too, but he wouldn’t know, given that she was on the other end of the phone. “We’ve been preparing for weeks for this debate. You said it yourself that he’s probably going to half-ass it anyway -- “

“Not about the debate.”

Static crinkled over the line. Joe looked up, eyes trailing after the masked security team doing their last-minute checks before he and...Donald walked out on stage. Together. Reunited again.

“About what you told me? I thought you said that was a one-time thing?”

“It was, but -- “ _But I’m weak when it comes to him_. He let it go unsaid, though. No one needed to know the deepest, darkest desires of his heart. A secret like this could mean his downfall. No...no one could know. No one could ever know his true feelings.

“You’ll be fine.”

Joe closed his eyes, shaking his head. She just...didn’t understand.

“Mr. Vice President,” one of the security guards said, and Joe looked his way. “We’re ready for you now.”

“Good luck, Joe,” Kamala said in his ear.

“Thanks.”

He hung up and turned his phone on silent before he walked up to the partition, taking care to slip his mask off and fold it in half. He looked up as he stuffed it into his left breast pocket, his eyes falling on him. Donald. _His Don_...no, he couldn’t let himself think that. Donald’s puffy eyes met his, holding his gaze almost tenderly, but that might have just been him getting his hopes up.

When Donald looked away, Joe let out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. Why was he so mesmerizing? Would he ever get over that one night? It was months ago, and he knew he was just Donald’s rebound when Vladimir broke up with him after he cheated on him with Jongun, but still...his touch, his saggy orange man-boobs, the way his hair flopped when he -- Joe flushed bright pink.

No, he couldn’t think about that right now. Not when they were about to debate. They were enemies, he told himself like he had so many times before. Enemies. They could never truly be lovers.

Chris Wallace called them out, and the curtain pulled away to let Joe through. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come.

* * * * *

**2:44 - You didn’t have to call me a clown. Rude!**

_2:44 - I thought you knew I was flirting_

**2:46 - Ha!**   
**2:47 - You think I still want to be with you? Ridiculous!**   
**2:47 - I was right! You’re not very smart at all. Tragic!**

* * * * *

> _Jill and I send our thoughts to President Trump and First Lady Melania Trump for a swift recovery. We will continue to pray for the health a safety of the president and his family._

He stared at the tweet, tapping his thumb on the edge of his phone. The doctor’s office he was in was silent, other than the rattling of the fan above him and the crinkling of the paper sheet on the bed when he shifted. He had tried to warn Donald multiple times. But he was stubborn, foolishly abandoning his mask. It was a tragedy, really, one that he hoped wouldn’t have lasting consequences.

The door handle turned, and Joe looked up as it clicked open. Dr. Wainwright breezed in, looking at the chart in her hands. “Good news, Joe,” he said, her eyes crinkling a little in the corners as she looked up at him. A surefire sign that she was smiling. “Your test came back negative. Jill’s, too.”

Joe let out a long sigh, nodding. “Okay.”

“We’ll have you come back in a week, just to make sure, so until then, I would stay home as much as possible.”

“Alright, will do.”

He gathered up his belongings and returned to his wife in the waiting room. Together, they headed home, dreading the week of quarantine. The campaign would have to be run remotely, for now. He held live-streamed rallies from his living room nearly every day, joined by Kamala, Pete, and Bernie, who were all eager to support him so that they could “take down Trump”.

But...if only they knew…

At night, after Jill would go to sleep, Joe turned on Fox News, getting the latest update on Donald’s condition.

“Even now!” Chris Wallace said, shaking his head in disbelief. “He refuses to wear a mask! It’s insane!”

The week passed, and his and his wife and staff’s tests came back negative again. They were in the clear to begin campaigning in earnest once more. And so they did, holding their socially-distanced meetings, answering the questions of the constituents who came to see them, promising that he would reinstate the change that he and Barack had worked so hard to achieve for eight years.

But still…

At night, when the world was quiet and dark, his mind wandered back to Donald. He wasn’t doing any better. In fact, he was only getting worse, if the reports on Fox were to be believed. Tears stung his eyes as he rolled over onto his side, staring at the blinking /1:51/ of the alarm clock on his nightstand -- the only light in the room...much like _his_ Donald.

* * * * *

**17:23 - Can you come?**   
**17:23 - I’d like to see you.**

_17:31 - What for?_

**17:33 - Don’t make me say please you know I won’t**   
**17:34 - The White House. Come in through the back. I’m in our room.**

* * * * *

It wasn’t easy to sneak onto the White House grounds. It never had been, but especially now. Luckily, given the fact that he had been the Vice President for eight years, he knew the weak spots in the security detail. He pulled his _Make America Great Again_ cap out of his glove box, slipping it on and glancing at himself in his rearview mirror.

If anyone saw him like this...it would all be over. But it was the only disguise he could think of in such short notice. Besides, it had worked last time, why would that change today?

He raced across the grounds, out of the sight of the waiting reporters, and into the kitchens. Dinner was being served, so he was able to slip right in, unnoticed. “Alright!” the chef called out, finishing drizzling the sauce over a still-sizzling steak. “Someone needs to take this up to the Chief.”

“I will,” Joe said, snatching the tray and heading upstairs to the room where it all began.

He knocked lightly on the door before reaching for the handle, letting himself inside. Donald looked up, surprise glimmering in his tanning-goggle-accentuated eyes. “You came,” he said softly. Joe smiled, setting the tray down on the desk before he sat beside him on the bed. “Melania...Putin...Jongun...they all refuse to come see me. But you...you came.”

“Of course, I did.” He let his gaze wander over the haphazard straw-like toupee, his unnaturally russet skin, his always-puckered lips before he met his eyes once more. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from you. You know that.” He reached out, hesitating for a second before he cupped Donald’s weathered, leathery cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad. So bad. The worst out of everyone.”

Joe nodded sympathetically, brushing his thumb back and forth on his cheek. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just hold me. Please.” Joe’s eyes widened. It was quite a rare occurrence for Donald to use that word. So, he settled beside him in bed, arranging the covers around him before he reached out to wrap him in a tight embrace. Donald’s head settled against his chest, the scent of his bubblegum five-in-one shampoo/conditioner/body wash/toothpaste/face wash wafting up to him. “You love me, fake news or real news?”

He pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, quietly spitting the fake hair out of his mouth before he said, “It’s real, Donald. It always has been.”

Donald relaxed then, and together they drifted off to sleep. Joe woke when a chill washed over him, and he realized that Donald, _his_ Donald, had died in his arms.

Tears sprang to his eyes, but he blinked them away as he released his one true love and slipped out of bed. He couldn’t be caught here, with Donald dead. So, as much as he wanted to linger, to say his last goodbyes, he ducked out, finding his way back outside and into the night.

It seemed much colder, now that his Sun had been laid to rest.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever find warmth again.

**Author's Note:**

> okay but for real, if you're American and of voting age, pls vote Biden I beg you


End file.
